Anne Of The Glen
by Mrs Charlotte E Morgan
Summary: RE-EDITED 1,2 &5 Turning the last page of Anne's House of Dreams, this story finds Anne and Gilbert starting their new life at the Glen. Will include Leslie's wedding, the birth of Anne's children, and other Glen tales. Thoughts and suggestions welcome
1. Chapter 1 the Morgan House

Anne Of The Glen

Chapter 1. The Morgan House

The October evening sky canopied overhead was gathering up banks of iron-grey cloud, great darkening drifts that billowed against the pale gold sunset like the sails of a Spanish fleet of yore. The sea breezes that usually raced the waves across the harbour were subdued, and the Four Winds air had stilled and lay heavy with the promise of storm. Gilded beams pierced through the heavens, casting a strange unearthly light wherever they touched, and far away the bell of the little white church clanged mournfully across the sea, a sorrowful tolling that echoed the emptiness in Anne's home-loving heart.

It was certainly a scene made to order for the mood of at least one of the Blythes occupying Marshall Elliott's smartly polished buggy as they drove from the Point to the Glen. The Elliott's obedient little brown mare, harnessed up front, was the animal tasked with delivering Young Dr. Blythe and wife to their new home, and she undertook her duties solemnly. On an ordinary day this journey would have relaxed the Doctor and delighted the wife, for the road to the Glen was a beautiful route in any weather - showing off field on one side and foam on the other - but the two travellers did not notice much during their slow and silent wend. Even the aerial sunset display… magnificent streaks of scarlet and flame that were now being painted across the horizon, crimsoning the tips of the storm clouds, were not sufficient to distract them. The pair were lost in the mists of memory, both of them calling back to the bountiful first years of marriage they had so happily spent under the sheltering, guardian eaves of the little House of Dreams.

Anne, her large eyes laced with unshed tears, had a head and heart full of rose-gold memories, too sacred to speak aloud. It was in that little cottage so beloved that she had chartered new territories of life; learning, by a hitherto unknown degree, the meanings of ecstatic happiness and the lessons of harshest pain - a pain that tested even the strongest of faiths to its limits. It was to the House of Dreams that she had come as a maiden bride; there that she had started on her sweetly winding path of wifedom. Together, she and Gilbert had welcomed old friends and family and made the acquaintance of characters destined to become true kindred spirits. Side by side they had sowed and harvested, toiled and rested, loved and lost, laughed and wept. Why, the little sanctuary had shared _everything_ with them - and now, she must leave it behind! At that moment, she felt it unendurable. Anne was not one for whom the practical outweighed the emotional.

Nor was she alone in her myriad remembrances. Gilbert, too, was thinking thoughts both fond and full. To him, also, had come the warmest pleasures and most driving pain, but his abiding thoughts were of the blessings bestowed upon them in that which he had referred to, in days gone by, as their "beacon in a naughty world". For Gilbert, the little cottage had been the haven that had enfolded the realization of his lifelong dream, the winning of Anne. And for that gift, all his future recall concerning the House of Dreams would be forever touched by sweetness. He looked over at his wife, seeing her lost on a sea of sentiment, and gently brought her back to shore.

"Come, Anne-o-mine, let us look to the future. I know how you feel, I admit I feel it myself - that little house was a beautiful domicile for us, and the happiest start to our married life as we could have asked for. But now we are entering a new chapter, our next 'bend in the road', as you used to say, and I'm sure that there is happiness lurking round that corner for us too."

"Oh Gilbert, I know." Said Anne, twisting the little handkerchief she held in her hands. "We haven't lost any of our happiness but we have lost our _home_. That place meant more to me than anywhere – you know it - even more than Green Gables – because it was mine, mine and yours, _our_ first place. I feel foolish and pettish but I wish we could stay there forever!"

"But don't you think that our new house will soon be consecrated by the life we lead, Anne?" Gilbert asked soberly of her.

"Oh I'm sure it probably will", admitted Anne reluctantly, "But at this moment in time it's gravest fault is that it's not my little House of Dreams and never can be, and for that I despise it to it's very beams!"

Gilbert laughed and drew her close to him. "Come, let's see what our small son thinks of his new living quarters. It is to be hoped that he is a bit more of an optimist in this debate than his lovely mother!"

The buggy pulled up at the front gate of their new home. Anne looked up at it as Gilbert attended to the horse; it seemed so vast after her little shore cottage! The neat front lawn seemed to stretch endlessly in it's quest to meet the verandah, and the wall surrounding the grounds grew into the distance where it was lost in a hardwood forest. Oh, it was beautiful alright, but it seemed so alien and independent! "It's so big and un-cosy. I _know_ I won't be able to make it wear the charm of my Little House of Dreams" thought Anne miserably.

Anne was evidently in the minority with her tragic musings. Leslie and Little Jem, having gone on ahead in the Blythe buggy with sundry 'household gods', were already exploring his new home, and laughter, both infant and maiden, rang through the airy house. Gilbert had already headed straight for the big old south facing room that was to be his new office, and Susan Baker, who had been there since the evening before, seemed very much a woman who was in seventh heaven. She was already in control, ordering the two Glen boys who had been hired for the afternoon to cart the furniture to their new positions in life.

"You! Young Adam Carson! Please take the best care you can muster with that big blue mixing bowl. Mrs. Doctor Blythe fetched that from Avonlea when she came to settle here, and I won't stand by and have you smash it to smithereens simply because you've got the same clumsy streak as your father. Do you not remember, Leslie dear," said the honest woman, as she began to empty a basket of kitchen linen, "The saga of the ill-fated wedding cake made by Mrs. Charlie Carson ten years ago for the Elder Clow's youngest's marriage? Dorcas had a way with cakes that drove other woman to jealous distraction and the Elder Clow had fixed on her to make his daughter's cake. Well, heart and soul went into the making of that cake and everybody had to admit it was the finest confection they had ever seen, even Mrs. Martin Wallace who usually carried off the honours most years at the Lowbridge Fair. It was white with silver icing, trimmed with marzipan red roses, each one hand fashioned. Oh, the cake was smart enough, the mistake Mrs. Charlie made was to entrust her ham-fisted husband to deliver it to the wedding venue. He was no more than five feet away from setting it down as the centre piece when his two left feet chose that very moment to perform a jig and over he went, landing flat out, with the cake launching off into the air coming to land on two bridesmaids and Mrs. Douglas Hampton who had come over special from Ontario. They managed to salvage the top tier but the rest of it wasn't fit for the hounds. Of course, Elder Clow was furious and refused to pay at first, and most people thought he was within a right, but it was pointed out to him that the Carsons were poor and Emmy needed her cake money to supplement the pisen wage that Charlie never can seem to bring home. Elder Clow paid her a third for her troubles, for the cake was three tiers high but he never gave Charlie a single odd job after that."

Susan ended her inadvertent lecture, apparently having satisfied herself that the moral of the story had been broadcast clearly enough for even the son of the wrong-doer to take full heed and proceed with the desired caution.

"And you, little Tommy Crawford, please do not attempt to go anywhere with that Grandfather clock under your own steam. The likelihood is that it will end up on you, and you in _it_, than in its rightful place, and I am not keen on having _you_ tell me the time on the hour every hour instead of the chime from now until the hereafter."

Duly chastened for a crime not yet committed, the said Master Tom waited patiently by the cart for the return of the genetically hampered Adam Carson.

Anne walked up the front steps through the open door into the hall, which had a finely carved set of stairs on its right and several solid looking wooden doors leading from it. Further down the stairway hall was another door which led into a spacious kitchen, stone-tiled and well closeted. It set itself apart from other Glen St. Mary kitchens by merit of owning two generously proportioned pantries and a cellar about which Susan could be more than confident in her boasts. Gilbert's office lay across the back hall from this and was as roomy, cool and high ceilinged as a respectable Doctor could wish for. A smart dining room was situated off the hall, and opposite, a big, light and airy den that immediately called out in welcome to entrants. Square in the middle of one wall was an open fireplace with a hearth that seemed to have been made for china dogs, and at one end of the room, an alcove that was just asking to be filled with good books. At the other end, a beautiful bay window framed perfectly the large garden, pale green and golden brown in its October cloak.

Upstairs the house continued to hold it's own. At the first landing was a beautiful half-crescent window with a deep wooden seat big enough for two. The glass was stained with rich reds and yellows, an ornamental quirk of Mr. Morgan's, through which the last of the sunset poured, suddenly golden, as if in defiance of the storm ahead. " Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes," quoth Anne to herself. The beauty of it called out to an impulse in her soul.

The bedrooms, of which there were five - plus a smaller 'up-steps' one over the kitchen that was to be Susan's domain - were all of pleasantly intriguing design. The four larger ones were bright, friendly rooms, spacious while not yet perfectly square; some quirked by a recess, some charactered by alcove, while the smaller one was a cosy L-shape which would be perfect for two small beds. As Gilbert had promised, up further stairs and crowning the house, was a large garret with a window that looked all the way down to the lighthouse on the cliffs. Off the garret was a further small room that lent itself to myriad uses.

Anne walked to the large round window in the shadowy, low-beamed garret and gazed down at the lighthouse and her old life. The promised storm had not kept to its earlier threat and had rolled some way out to sea, although light raindrops were just beginning to spatter the panes. The sun had set behind the storm clouds, and the sky was now just flat and sullen, darkening as it bided for night. Twilight and the delicious Four Winds dusk so beloved by her heart would not display that evening. The dim weather reminded her of her mood, and Anne was at risk of luxuriating in fresh misery when Leslie and little Jem found her, bring the wife and mother back to reality and lighter thoughts. Her baby reached out his chubby little arms to her and Anne gathered him up and pressed his soft, round cheek to hers.

"It _is_ a lovely house, Anne" said Leslie, coming to her friend and clasping her waist gently. "We've been through it just now and there's not one room to dislike! It has such a friendly, welcoming feel about it, as though it _wants_ you here."

"It _does_ have a warmth about it," admitted Anne. "I think that houses must soak up the souls of past inhabitants, and the Morgan's were such a jolly, friendly couple. And I believe that their two girls were such pretty, laughing, merry things, so Miss Cornelia has told me. Just as my little House of Dreams was steeped in the personalities of previous inhabitants, I feel that these walls would talk only of pleasant people also, if talk they could. Ow – w – w – just the thought of that darling little place!"

"Now then, dearest," coaxed Leslie, cuddling her friend a little closer. "Let us look only forward, to happy things. There is so much to do here, and I'm sure you will enjoy nesting again once you start in."

"I will." Said Anne resolutely. "You are right. I've cried my cry and now I am going to dig in to unpacking. I was just being overly 'melancollitt' as Rebecca Dew used to say. I am so glad that you are here with us though, Leslie; your very presence makes the gap between old and new so much more comfortable to bear. I feel as though as long as dear friends are around, nothing much can change for the worse and that life will presently show me it's rosier side again. Let us set to darling, I crave to see familiar comforts around me, and then maybe I will feel a little less homesick!"


	2. Chapter 2 Rootlets of Affection

Chapter 2. Rootlets of Affection

Leslie was to stay with the Blythe's until Owen came to take her away to her new life in December. She had wanted to pay board but Anne had been indignant.

"Indeed not, dearest! You are our guest and our friend! I wouldn't _dream_ of having you here as a lodger! No, you just come and live at the Morgan house until you leave Four Winds for your new life and you will be doing me as much of a favour as you suppose I am doing for you."

If Leslie ever felt as though she should rightfully be paying her way – and it would be fair to say she sometimes felt her strong West pride pinch her a little – she could take comfort in the fact that there was much to do in the new house and that she willingly worked like a Trojan to help make the Blythe transition as smooth and worry free as possible. It was the very least she felt she could do for her beloved Anne.

In fact, everyone worked with a will and over the course of the following weeks they swiftly turned the house into a home. Every unpacked box brought another feel of 'belonging' to the house. Marilla's braided rugs warmed the floors and Rachel Lynde's tobacco striped and apple leafed quilts lay smartly and cosily on beds. Gog and Magog took up residence on the hearth and other Blythe nicknacks, collected everywhere from Avonlea to Four Winds, gradually settled into place.

Throughout the big mellow house other work was being carried out to a similarly pleasing effect. Gilbert righted his office and Susan Baker reigned supreme in the kitchen areas, satisfied completely with her new empire. Such room to bake and set out! Such pantries to store her food in! And the oven was double the size of the last one! Susan sighed happily and returned to scrubbing the cupboards to the Baker standard.

During the day the womenfolk scrubbed and scoured and Glen handymen came up to paint and prune. The evenings were given over to sewing curtains and basting sheets by the fire, and everyone worked swiftly and uncomplainingly. The house was becoming something to really admire and Anne found her heart stirring as its charm grew room by room. She could start to see hers and Gilbert's family home emerging and was hesitatingly beginning to form plans for the garden in the Spring. Glen inhabitants were making a point of calling in as word got round of the wonders the Blythes were working on the Morgan House.

A short time passed and Anne's home settled back comfortably into place; kinks and corners became familiar to her, views from windows started to call to her as she passed by them and rooms and hallways lost their taint of strangeness. The Blythe family stamp had made itself felt - with several new additions to their 'worldly goods' making an appearance. Mrs. Lynde was a prominent and noticeable benefactress in this regard. She had kept a lot of her old furniture in storage since she moved to Green Gables and had said that what they liked of it could be theirs - it was just gathering dust in Mr. Harrison's barn and none of her offspring had any use for it, being older and having already furnished their homes. Gilbert and Anne thanked her readily, for it was all good, well made stuff; a little old-fashioned, but that appealed to Anne, who was well-known to be a lover of old flavours and tradition, and mostly matched the items they had bought from Miss. Russell's estate in taste and style. It was much needed too, for Ingleside was three times the size of the little House of Dreams and some of the rooms would have remained bare for longer without it. And so, it was sent over from Avonlea and Anne and Leslie spent happy hours finding new homes for the old chairs, beds and dressers.

Marilla, too, had sent up some extra pieces, no longer needed at Green Gables, and as each one was unloaded from the Flagg wagon and set down in her new home Anne felt an almost unbearable sweetness of recall as Green Gables memories flooded over her. To have such lovely reminders of her childhood home here in Four Winds did much to reconcile her more quickly to her new situation, as if ribbons of yesterday were threading prettily round her new life to protect and reassure her.

The Blythe clan had also given the young couple some treasures. Gilbert's late Grandmother's Bristol glass candlesticks, that had had pride of place on her White Sands mantelpiece, now stood proudly on the Ingleside dining room table. Just as handsomely, Gilbert's Grandfather's grand old leather chair now graced one corner of his office, the perfect resting spot for a practicing young Doctor's weary bones after a hard day at work. An alluring porcelain figurine of a ballet dancer that used to stand on a table in the Blythe hallway now prettily pirouetted in the alcove of the living room. Mrs. Blythe knew Anne had always had an especial fancy for her, and Anne was as touched and delighted with the gift as she had been when Miss Patty had given her the old china dogs.

Four Winds was a simple living settlement, thus Gog and Magog were now somewhat famous throughout the village after Captain Jim had made so much of them to the glen folk following their first appearance in the House of Dreams. More than one visit to the old shore cottage had been prompted by a curiosity that couldn't be quelled by second hand description, albeit one disguised under some other pretext. Children out and out fully expected them to be living creatures, spellbound to the fire place, and even the adults saw them as being a pair of the most unusual things they'd ever set eyes on. Anne was laughingly delighted in their widespread appeal.

Using some of the money that Miss. Josephine Barry had left her, Anne also added "bits" here and there so that no corner felt too unloved and she could walk round the house feeling that it was starting to feel more "her and Gilbert-ish". It was delightful to have remembrances of loved ones all over your house

They had been installed in their new abode for a couple of weeks when Ingleside was laurelled with its name. Leslie was down at Miss Cornelia's, not to return until morning, so it was just a pleasant evening for two. Sitting in the old comfortable armchairs of Mrs. Lynde's by the fire, Anne and Gilbert both were reading; Gilbert immersed in a new medical journal that had just arrived from Nova Scotia and Anne was allowing her mind to wander deliciously through a book of charming yarns about fairy folk. It was the kind of book that Susan viewed dubiously askance, thinking it not quite appropriate fare for a Doctor's wife, but she knew, also, that Mrs. Doctor was not like any other doctor's wives.

Susan's adoration of Anne was total and unwavering, with her admiration for the Doctor and his methods running a close second. A more faithful handmaiden never walked the earth, nor a prouder one. Susan was nothing loathe to let people know, when she was shopping in Carter Flagg's store, or down at the harbour buying fresh fish, that her purchases were for "the good Doctor Blythe's table" or "a treat for dear Mrs. Doctor Blythe". It was no common thing to work in such splendid conditions as the Morgan Place, and Susan was happy to broadcast the fact that she was an entrenched member of that very household. There was _nothing_ she would not do for either the Doctor or his wife, as she would airily avow to friends on the porch after prayer meetings. Even as they sat, Susan was busying herself in the kitchen concocting some creamy, hot drinks for her beloved master and mistress, to "stave off the 'pisen mean conditions", as she put it.

Anne let her book slip from her hands as, warmly curled up, she looked out of the window into the gloom. Night had drawn in and the first cold stars bravely stared out, high and stark in the inky sky. A white full moon hung like an opal, throwing a ghoulishly blue, chilled light over the village. The wind ran icy fingers through tree boughs, determined to strip them of their last ruddy garments. It raced round the Blythe house, throwing leaves against the window panes and sending creaks through the eaves. Down at the shore, a fog bank was rolling in, silent and menacing and there was not a soul out; all of the Glen folk seemed to be hiding in their homes, doors safely barred against the witchery of the night. The thought made Anne shiver.

"Cold, Anne-girl?" Gilbert enquired, getting up to attend to the fire, which was merrily crackling away, but that would be all the jollier for another apple log thrown on.

"No, not here, in this cosy home of ours, Gilbert. It's just looking out at nights like this seems to _force_ shivers from me, _delicious_ shivers as I picture the uncanny things that must go on outside little havens on nights like this. Trolls and spooks and hooded little elven folk, meeting up in the woods for some dark magic gathering; witches flying "all 'cross moons" on their spindly broomsticks, even common garden beasties might be given the gift of speech for the night - why, Gilbert, I'm willing to believe there are toads invoking spells at the foot of our garden right this minute!"

"Are you sure you're quite well, Mrs. Doctor dear?" Enquired Susan concernedly, as she entered bearing two deliciously scented mugs on a tray. "Should the doctor not maybe look you over and check for fever?" Gilbert smiled indulgently.

"Oh, I'm well enough, thank you!" Laughed Anne merrily, "Just please don't expect me to be compleeet-ly normal on nights like this, Susan dear, it's impossible for me to be a rational human being when the fairy underworld is "a-live and a-dancing" right under my nose as it is tonight!"

"I'm sure I have no idea about any fairy underworld Mrs. Dr. dear", sniffed Susan. "But if it produces talking toads I'm sure I don't want to know anything about it neither. But my, our fire is looking very cheerful tonight! I do love a nice fire Mrs. Doctor dear. Something that you'll never find at Emmy Drew's place, and that you may tie to. I was round there the other night, and it was just as cold as this, yet she had but three matchsticks spluttering in the grate in place of a fire. That line of Drew's have always been noted for meanness though." She added matter-of-factly, going back to her kitchen.

Anne had to agree – their fire was a welcome thing indeed. Book now totally forgotten, she stared into the crackling fire and let the hypnotic faery flames of yellow and gold, tipped with blues and greens, transport her to a goblin kingdom far beyond the recesses of the hearth. The inglenook shadowed and flickered, then leapt into relief as the fire danced with its living spirits and sparks.

Gilbert shifted, catching Anne's attention. She watched as he made a note of some medical fact he was reading and then fell back to the pages again. What a good Doctor he was! Anne was quietly very impressed with the way Gilbert had built his practice up since their arrival at Four Winds. Even Miss Cornelia admitted he was as fine a man as you could hope for in a community medic. Everyone seemed to want the young Doctor Blythe's services – even the over harbour folk, _and_ the Methodists, as Miss Cornelia was quick to point out. "There _is_ a Methodist Doctor not too far from these parts, but even the slowest among their shower were quick to realize that he's no patch on that man of yours, Anne dearie." It _was_ lovely to be able to feel so proud of your own husband.

He caught her looking at him, and smiled, his eyes full of the love that was never very far away when Anne occupied his thoughts.

"Penny for them?" He offered, as he closed the book and stretched his long legs out before the fireplace, taking care not to disturb the silky black and white kitten blissfully dreaming on the hearth rug.

"Oh, it's just a happy wife and mother you see before you!" stated Anne. "I was just thinking how lovely everything is starting to feel; and I do love this big old fireplace with its inglenooks, it throws such a _homey_ light out."

"Well, we've always said we need a name for our house Anne," pondered Gilbert. "We can't keep going about calling it the Morgan Place ad finitum! How about Inglenook House?"

Anne mused, her mind darting round and over the possibilities. She thought for a short time, giving full vent to her excellent imagination and then her face lit up.

"Oh, Gilbert! How about Ingleside? It sounds a little more homey - part inglenook, part fireside… Ingleside! The name was made for this house… oh it gives me one of my old "queer aches" so I _know_ it's right!"

"Ingleside it is then, Anne-o-mine" Laughed Gilbert, getting up again to stoke the flames.

The kitten had woken, and stretched in that expression of absolute contentment that only the cat, of all God's creatures, had managed to perfect and convey. She padded over to Anne and stretched little paws appealingly up the chair, wanting a friendly lap. Anne responded accordingly and picked her up, cuddling her adoringly. Gilbert had found her at the Glen, cold and thin, mewing piteously outside the door of an old lady he had looked after till the last.

"Only thing the poor old dear had" said the fat next door neighbor who was out scrubbing her front step. "She found it cryin' at her back porch jes' a few weeks afore she died. Din't have it long but Lord, she loved the critcher somethin' turrible. My lad will likely drown it tonight as who will keer to look after it now?"

Gilbert, who thought that the needless taking of a healthy animals life immoral, had resolutely scooped the little skinny scrap up and taken her home. Here, she was adored by Mother, Father and small son, tolerated admirably by The First Mate, the cat of much-missed Captain Jim, who was too senior to need worry about pretenders to his throne, and even Susan, no lover of the cat tribe, admitted the little thing had appeal. Leslie especially loved her, petting and nurturing the tiny animal back to rude health. Anne's heart melted as she saw Leslie's natural need to mother blossoming to the fore, and once again silently blessed Gilbert, as she had done on many an occasion, for uncovering the secret key to Leslie's freedom, and thereby opening up the promises of the future for her beautiful friend. She felt sure that Leslie would soon join her at the sweet alter of motherhood. Oh life was good!

Anne looked around her, marvelously happy. Yes, the house could definitely be considered a home now, with all their "bits" about them, with things freshly painted and washed. It was a very nice feeling, after all, to be able to put your own 'stamp' on a new place. With the delectable smells of that days baking still wafting from the kitchen, and the knowledge that Little Jem was safely tucked up in bed dreaming sweet little infant dreams, and having her husband right by her side, a true kindred spirit, of life more could not be asked. The mistress of Ingleside gave a contented, satisfied, smiling sigh as she picked up her book once more, and drifted back into the lost, misted lands of fancy and faery folk.


	3. Chapter 3 Good Friends and Glad Tidings

Chapter 3 – Good Friends And Glad Tidings

Leslie West was to be married to Owen the next month, and preparations were well underway for their wedding day. Now that Ingleside was the right way up and its inhabitants settled, they could turn their full attentions to the delights of connubial plans and schemes.

Leslie's happiness radiated out of her like a star. Fortune had finally recognized its own and gifts of the gods now seemed be showered before her like jewels. From a life of weary drudgery and bitter disappointment she had emerged, Venus like, as a woman with the world and all its wonders at her feet. Leslie met each day with an aura of joy about her that shone with a brilliance her friends saw, and could not help but be warmed by. Where once there had once been coolness, measured politeness and studied manners, now there was a glow, a frank openness and a bountiful spirit. And laughter; Leslie found that laughter was very near these days. The golden notes that had so bewitched Anne in the early days of their friendship seemed always ready at the crimson lips to enchant any moment out of the ordinary and lend it a spark of delight.

As delighted as she truly was for Leslie at the new and beautiful direction her life had taken, Anne was heart-sore at the thought of losing her friend to 'the winds of the world'. Just when their souls had found perfect communion and balance, Leslie would be around no more. As if in recognition of this knowledge, the two kindred spirits cherished each minute they had together, and this golden time in their lives overflowed with warmth, tenderness and compassion. Leslie's gratitude showed in her tireless efforts to make the transition from shore to Glen as painless as possible for her beloved Anne, for she knew what a wrench leaving the cottage had been for her darling; Anne in response was eternally thankful and appreciative. And so their friendship deepened and grew yet richer still, blooming like a beautiful rose, a gift from life that was treasured in the hearts of both women – "Two good, sweet women; true and faithful and to be depended on". Captain Jim had been unerring and correct in his benediction.

Owen Ford had promptly purchased the old House of Dreams from the Presbyterian Church trustees when the Blythes moved out. The lovers had chosen the little shore cottage as their sacred matrimonial spot, and the romance and full-circle charm of this was not lost on Anne, who thrilled to the idea. How perfectly poetic for the Schoolmaster's grandson to wed his bride just where John Selwyn had married his own true love over sixty years before! Anne delighted, too, in the fact that the House of Dreams was to capture yet another memory of love; it seemed to have been designed solely to be a haven for hearts strong and true, a keeper and protector of romance down through the ages.

It was to be an intimate affair, with just their nearest and dearest there to bear witness to their love vows. The Blythes and the Elliott's, of course, some of Owen's folk, and a few other kindly souls from the Glen who had always been good to Leslie in her girlhood. It had been decided that the ceremony should take place inside if there was a snow, or out in the garden if the weather gods smiled upon them, as the season was showing promise of being a mellow and mild one. That little garden with its roses and shell-lined borders was very dear to both Owen and Leslie, as it had been the scene of the acknowledgement and coronation of their love for one another. After the vows, guests would drive to Ingleside for the wedding breakfast, for no other reason than practicality where even relatively small numbers were concerned. Susan's plans for the wedding fare surpassed anything in volume that the little House of Dreams could hope to serve up. The Ford's were then taking off immediately for Europe on their wedding tour.

"Europe! Oh how enchanting – I've always longed to go and see the Old World." Anne had exclaimed with shining eyes. "To see the Greece of the ancients, the majestic snow-capped Alps, our dear motherland Britain! I envy you Leslie! And is it decided now that you will settle in Ontario, when you return from Europe?"

"I _think_ so" said Leslie slowly, torn between the idea of leaving her beloved Four Winds and loving friends and the sense of unutterable freedom she felt almost every minute – like that of a caged bird feels upon realizing its gilded door is open. "The publishers of the Life Book say they have had so much interest they want to talk to Owen about a book tour all over Canada, so it seems we mightn't be in any one place for too long, at least right off. We will have a base though in Ontario as you say, as Owen's people are all there, and his publishing house, so it makes sense, but he says he has a yen for travel, with _me_ at his side. It makes me so proud to hear him say that, Anne! Owen says there is so much he wants to show me, oh and Anne, I must say, I want to see it all too! I love Four Winds, of course, and it is beautiful to me to know that we will always be able to come back to the House of Dreams to visit, but I do have an unquenchable thirst to discover the world hand in hand with him, I almost _tremble_ thinking of the adventures open to us! The lands, the seas, the mountains! I never thought that life would hold such possibilities for me, I had long resigned myself to looking after Dick and the farm, day in, day out, and now! I feel that fate has handed me the world on a plate! But my love for Owen would make me happy to follow him anywhere, Anne, I can't _tell _you how happy."

"Oh, I think I do know, Leslie dear" Said Anne softly, clasping her friends hands and smiling into the sea-blue eyes, all astar with hope and love. "And seeing you so heart-glad fills my own with joy! But, aah me, Owen Ford seems to be coming to whisk you away from me all too soon!"

Much time was also happily spent on Leslie's trousseau, despite her gentle protestations. Captain Jim had bequeathed the farm back to Leslie, mortgage free, intending to give her some funds to make her life easier once he'd gone. After consultation with Gilbert, Anne and the Marshall Elliotts, Leslie had sold off the stock and the property - sending some of the money to George Moore - and the rest she'd saved, taking a little out to buy materials and such like for the trousseau she never thought she would have.

"I hope you don't think me frivolous or shallow, Anne" said Lesley, half apologetically as she laid out some filmy ivory stuff to cut into pattern one evening. "I do feel a little reckless. I've never had money to spare for things for myself, so I've never spent it, but if I can just have a _few_ pretty things to start my life with Owen, I will really feel like a bride for the first time in my life."

" Now _those_ are two words that could never be used to describe you!" laughed Anne gaily as she added tiny flounces to a gown of periwinkle blue, which was to be Leslie's 'second day' dress. "There is absolutely nothing wrong in liking pretty things, I do myself. And every woman wants to look her best for her husband, and herself. It's high time you were able to do justice to that figure of yours – how much I admired you on first sight - I'd never seen such beauty! Your dresses are rightly fit for an empress – I especially love that beautiful cream evening dress with the seed pearl trim that Miss Cornelia has made for you – she really is a wonder with a needle! Owen Ford will be the proudest man in all Canada, with every right to be!"

Leslie laughed. Supreme happiness had chased away the last of her sorrows and light and life radiated from her very soul. She knew down deep in her soul that no hint of the darkness that kept such close company with her remained. Bitterness had been banished for good and her heart almost floated with the knowledge. The advent of Owen Ford in her life still seemed like a miracle to her and she wanted with all her heart for him to be as proud of her as Anne predicted. Deep, rose-red love went into every stitch of her new clothes and they looked all the more exquisite for it. The aura Leslie gave off was contagious. Miss Cornelia could not make pretty waists and skirts quickly enough for her darling, surpassing anything she had previously made in terms of style, and together with Anne and Susan put her heart and soul into the making of Leslie's wedding dress.

"I couldn't be more proud if I was decking out my own daughter, dearie" the kindly woman confided to Anne, as they were gathering up materials and pins after a bridal fitting, and Leslie had gone for a walk to the shore. "That girl deserves every happiness in the world, and I mean to help in any small way I can."

"Well, you certainly have provided a queen's trousseau, Miss Cornelia!" Laughed Mrs. Blythe. "I've never seen such beautiful embroidery as you've sewn on those lovely dresses!"

"Like I said", sniffed Cornelia, "I am the best sewer round these parts, and I'm happy to put my talent to good use. Lord, how I'll miss her when she goes, Anne dearie! I missed Captain Jim when he went, still do, moren't I'd ever let on to other folk in the village, for all he was a man. That old sea dog was the closest thing I had to a best friend , saving you and Leslie of course, but I'd known him longest, and he was a good friend and neighbor to me for over twenty years. There's none too many folks down on the shore road, as you know yourself, and it can sometimes feel a lonely sorta place, and it was a great comfort to me to know that Captain Jim was around and about, ready to help if it were needed. And now with you and Leslie gone… Oh, I know there's Marshall, and he's turning out to be the good husband I'd planned for him to be, but he's not so much part of my _old_ life, which seems to be jes' sort of slipping through my hands. For the first time I'm feeling my age, Anne, and life seems to be speeding away somehow. Oh, this is not like me, talking this way!"

Miss Cornelia looked away upset, trying to hide and brush away a small tear as she did so. But it wasn't missed by the ever emotionally attuned Ingleside mistress.

"We all miss Captain Jim too", said Anne gently, taking Mrs. Elliott's work worn hands into her own. "A finer man you couldn't hope to meet, but his memories live on, Miss Cornelia; his memories live on. I feel his spirit around me every time I see the sea, or a ship on the horizon or a gull wheeling and arcing in the sky! He was the personification of Four Winds, and as such he can never be lost to us, just as Margaret could never be lost to him. Leslie will return to us by and by, dear Miss Cornelia, all the happier for the life she is leaving here to lead, and the House of Dreams will be alive again, with life and love and laughter. Life isn't running away, dearest, it's just that Leslie's life changes are such a big shock and surprise to us all; and the adjustment of life after losing loved ones – however they're lost – always takes some time to come to terms with. And for friends and old flavours, Gilbert and I will be in Four Winds forever, I hope and pray, with little Jem, and Susan and … and… maybe other future kindred spirits – Oh, Miss Cornelia, I have such happy news!"

For Leslie's trousseau wasn't the only thing nimble fingers were working on. Anne once again did indeed have joyful news of her own, and Ingleside celebrated with her. Darling little suits and smocks were laid out for making up alongside Leslie's lovely gowns and blouses in the busy household, and the women's hands knew not an idle moment. Ever remembered, the tragedy of little Joyce gave Anne's tidings an ever sweeter tinge of gladness, and Leslie and Miss Cornelia's heartfelt happiness in their friend's fortune almost matched Anne's own. Susan immediately set aside time each day to knit or stitch some sweet thing for the anticipated arrival and, the Glen folk, who were realizing just how much the Doctor and his wife had come to mean to their community, kept up a steady stream to the door with tempting dishes or little garments of their own creation.

A proud and happy Gilbert, ever mindful of the adage about Doctor's wives, and with the memory of the heart-breaking sorrow they had shared together never too far from his thoughts, made sure that Anne did not over-tax herself too much with the house, and Susan, Leslie and Miss Cornelia were staunch in backing him up.

"But I'm _quite_ fine!" laughed Anne protestingly, as Susan took over from her unpacking a large horse hair trunk which she had dragged out onto the garret floor and was going through. "I just remembered an old shawl Miss Barry gave to me that had some exquisite beading on the trim, and I thought I would update one of Leslie's waists with it."

"That's as maybe, Mrs. Doctor dear." Said Susan, as one laying down a law. "But why have a dog and bark yourself, as I have said many's the time? Stitch away you may do, by the comfort of your own hearth, but hulking great heavy trunks about up here in the cold when there is someone to do it for you, and keep your baby calm as a result you will not, with the greatest respect, and that you may tie to."

Anne succumbed meekly, for she realized that there was an army against her. And so she thrived and felt loved and protected, and life at Ingleside continued to unfold at a beautiful pace. Days passed smoothly as late Autumn changed places with early Winter, and Lady Season covered her gown of rubies and gold with a soft, velvet cloak of opal and pearl.

Anne found many a quiet hour to dream over some tiny stitched dress or bootee, happily adrift on the love-light clouds of wonder that impending motherhood affords.


	4. Chapter 4 Innocence versus Experience

4. Innocence versus Experience

It was after one such quiet hour in a late November afternoon that Anne laid down her sewing to host an afternoon tea. As well as the Ingleside women there was Miss Cornelia and a guest in the form of Miss Eglantine Ellis, all to be found sitting comfortably around a welcome driftwood fire, the afternoon light just starting to fade outside. Lamps had just been lit, and a fresh pot of tea had just been brought in by the redoubtable Susan, along with a fresh batch of delicious lemon biscuits, which she set down on the table while viewing their visitor out of the corner of her eye with some half-hidden awe.

There was no denying that Eglantine was a beauty. She was one of the loveliest creatures the Glen had ever had in their midst. Long, luxurious tresses of inky black curled their way artfully like ribbons around her slim shoulders, ending in natural ringlets half way down her back. Skin of faerie-white, unmarred by dint or freckle, set the perfect backdrop for her features. Eyes, almost the violet hue of Anne's fantasy heroines of yesteryear were framed by sooty sweeps of long lashes and a dusky rose lived on each plump cheek. There wasn't a lad in the village who didn't dream of claiming the kisses that might be offered from her full, crimson lips and she truly could have had her pick, but therein lay the rub that gave her mother sleepless nights.

At seventeen Miss Eglantine Ellis had shown every sign of choosing a career over marriage, and what was more was that she had announced this to be the case to her mother and anyone who would listen. She had a driving ambition to be a writer, a journalist, to travel the globe and report its news to everyone, and had pushed any thoughts of settling down right out of her head. She would_ never_ marry. She wanted a career, and would _always_ choose that over some silly boy. Eglantine's widowed mother, a rather hawk-faced woman not over-blessed with warmth, had one life's ambition which was to see her only daughter settled with a husband and a family. Her daily scolding and nagging regarding this outrage fell on deaf ears, for Eglantine was her father's daughter in that regard, as well as in looks; imperturbable when decided.

It was not ladylike, Mrs. Ellis had intoned sternly. But who wanted to be a lady dismissed Eglantine ? She wanted to be out there with the _human race_. It was not necessary to have a career – a husband would soon provide – chided her mother but Eglantine scoffed – she would _never_ get married. I simply cannot afford it, was an imperious block – but Eglantine intended to pay her own way; she would be _independent_. Mrs. Ellis was at her wits' end.

Realising that all her shots had been fired, Mrs. Ellis had thought long and hard for a while and then set out for Ingleside. Once there, she had unburdened herself of her mother's woes and all but begged the Doctor's wife to talk some sense into the girl. Mrs. Ellis knew that the Doctor's wife 'wrote a bit'; a fact still eyed with slight suspicion in the generality of Four Winds; but it was plain to see she also was a very happily married woman who had chosen to raise a family above all. Eglantine's mother may have lacked vision and empathy, but she was shrewd enough to see that here was a perfect example to hold up to Eglantine, in order that it might help to change her daughter's ridiculously willful views over to her own way of thinking. She knew, too, that Leslie West was residing there for the time being, and not even Mrs. Ellis had failed to see the effect that thoughts and plans for a forthcoming marriage had had upon _her_.

Work in progress.


	5. Chapter 5 Leslie's Wedding

5. Leslie's Wedding

December arrived on silver winds. Winter had been very mild for the Maritimes that year and the flora wore none of the pinched, frozen look that usually accompanies the season. Porcelain fine skies spread palely overhead and soft chains of clouds scudded gently across the horizon.

Wedding preparations were all but complete. Down at the little House of Dreams a seasonal sprucing had been undertaken. The rooms had been swept and dusted by the girls, having lain dormant these last couple of months, and outside Gilbert had raked the garden, while Marshall Elliott and Owen Ford had trimmed the Lombardies on the lane. Back at Ingleside, Susan was most definitely at the helm, happily charged with creation of the wedding breakfast for the guests after the ceremony. As foretold, an innocent bystander would have been forgiven for thinking that she was preparing to feed the five thousand, such was the amount of food she was planning, and yet still the maid of Ingleside constantly fretted that they wouldn't have enough to satisfy everybody's stomachs.

"Susan, dear, we have enough food to feed an army, let alone a "small and select" wedding party, as Miss Cornelia is calling it!" laughed Anne. "I'm _sure_ that we have enough, and more besides! We have a full tureen of vegetable soup with your wonderful freshly baked bread, a side of ham that is fairly elbowing for space on the table next to the broiled chickens and roast beef, potatoes done three ways, preserves, not to mention all the pies; and we have so many different types of dessert on top of the wedding cake I fear the doctor is going to be eating wedding puddings for a month!"

"Oh well," admitted Susan, "At least it's not something he will likely become tired of. I will say, I never cooked for a more appreciative man than the Doctor when it comes to my strawberry crumble."

"You are famed for your baking, Susan dearest, and rightly so," mollified Anne with her warm smile, "The Doctor is the envy of the menfolk in the Glen for his table."

"Ah, well, Mrs. Doctor, dear" said Susan, "I may not have had the chance to marry, and nor do I see it being likely to happen, but I do like to think that if it were suddenly thrust upon me, I would not let myself down with my kitchen skills." And with a secretly vastly flattered heart she trotted off back to her realm.

The day of Leslie's wedding day dawned crisp and clear. Overnight, the lightest flakes of snow had fallen, barely covering the brown earth, but just enough to frost over the rose bushes in the garden of the House of Dreams. A white shimmer dusted the tops of the quahog shells put there by Captain Jim many moons before. Every branch and stem was finely outlined in glittering white giving the whole picturesque scene an enchanted, ethereal spark.

"Oh how lovely!" whispered Leslie to Anne, as she gazed out of the casement to the garden below. She had spent her final night as a single woman in the little House, happily chatting with Anne before a comforting, crackling driftwood fire, and now they were dressing there before the ceremony. They were alone - Little Jem had stayed up at Ingleside with Susan, who was running around like a thing possessed to ensure that everything in preparation for the wedding breakfast ran like clockwork. Miss Cornelia was due along in an hour to assist with the adorning.

"Oh, perfect, just perfect" murmured Anne in low agreement, joining her friend at the window. "Just like fairyland. See, even the snow sprites are making sure that everything about your day of days is perfect! I'm so happy for you, dearest," she said, slipping her arm through her friend's. "I can only wish you the same happiness that Gilbert and I have known, but if you have that, t'will be enough."

"And I thought I never _would _know a happiness like the one you and Gilbert know," said Leslie seriously. "To think that the love I used to envy horribly in you is in my heart and hands now! It makes me ashamed for ever feeling that way, almost as though I shouldn't deserve it."

"Come now, none of that talk, today, or from any day forward Leslie, dearest! Your life begins now, and your happiness will only grow from this moment on! Now I am going to do my proper duty as a good matron-of-honour and make sure you eat just a leetle something on your wedding morning. Swooning brides were all well and good in our Story Club of old, but not so suited to modern practicalities!"

They breakfasted lightly and laughed and talked of the day ahead. Miss Cornelia arrived to help Leslie prepare and lent a motherly air to the proceedings. About an hour before the ceremony, Leslie's laughter died down; she became pensive and slightly remote. Anne saw the faraway look in her eyes that comes to all true brides on their day of days. Leslie spoke not as the satin material was slipped over her golden head, and made no murmur as Anne threaded delicate white hothouse buds through her hair – and one precious, velvety red one. All the while Leslie just stood there looking out sea with an expectant air, lips parted and a faint flush staining her ivory cheek.

The wedding party was a 'small and select' number, as Miss Cornelia had maintained. The Minister, of course, and Anne and Gilbert; the Elliotts' - Marshall was giving her away; old Doctor Dave, who had brought Leslie into the world and his wife, the jolly, silver-haired Mrs. Doctor Dave; Uncle Isaac West and his family and a few 'over harbour' folk who had known Leslie since birth. The grooms guests were made up of Owen's father, a dashing, older version of his son; he was visiting for the wedding with his two maiden twin aunts; two dear, white-haired old ladies who reminded Anne of a pair of gentle little birds. A young lady by the name of Amelia had also come up with the Ford party, a delightful, vivacious thing of sixteen, dark of hair, fine of brow and pink of cheek. Originally the daughter of a close neighbour of the Aunts, she had been orphaned as a baby and had been under their kind and loving guardianship ever since; she was a sweet, fine souled and unspoilt creature, and Anne immediately felt a kinship with the child.

The weather gods had listened to the prayers sent their way, and the weather held beautifully, so outside the ceremony was. The guests gathered in the Winter clad garden as Leslie glided out of the House of Dreams escorted by a proud Marshall Elliot, to the waiting, adoring arms of Owen Ford.

It was a sweet, informal affair, in the perfect setting. The rose bushes, bare and stark, stood as spiky sentinels encasing the little garden, as if protecting the lovers in a ring of enchantment. The little cottage seemed aware of it's own importance as a defender and protector of love, standing patient and true as ever in the background. The sky was a milky opal and the wind a gentle, charming breath , with the murmuring sea acting as a Neptune-led choir. The sun had even made an appearance, in the form of a soft, dim, halo of light suspended in the Winter sky.

But Leslie; she looked so beautiful that Anne could only wonder if she was really a human being like the rest of them, or secretly an enchanted angel sent to walk with mortals. Her ivory dress fitted her magnificent figure like a glove, the bodice embroidered delicately with seed pearls. The folds of the dress dropped at her feet in small pools of silk, giving her the appearance of a driad at her own secret woodland pool. Her golden hair garlanded, she wore no other adornments, but no other gilding was needed. Her star-like eyes were clear and blue, her cheeks still held their morning blush and her lips against her creamy skin were a wondrous red.

Owen looked upon his bride, walking towards him like a beautiful saint, and his heart overflowed with the love that burst forth within him. He could scarcely countenance the reality, as he looked upon her beautiful face and knew, doubtlessly, that this woman before him, whose loving nature and passionate spirit found match only with her peerless looks, had enslaved him for all eternity. He knew what riches fate had given him in Leslie, what a prize he had found, and he intended to treasure her always. To guard her from harm, fill her heart with joy, to show her the things on God's earth that would feed her soul and satisfy her spirit. Leslie, looking at her husband to be, just had a fleeting thought of , "Can this really be happening to _me_? this lovely dream?" before Owen took her hands in his and the Minister began his wedding prayer.

And so, the little House of Dreams saw its fourth bride, and collected another joyous memory to its breast. Once the congratulations and kisses had been shared and the Minister had left, people climbed into the waiting buggys and carts that were to transport them back up to Ingleside. Susan met them at the steps with a laughing Little Jem in her arms, who wriggled ad stretched out chubby arms to Anne when he saw his mother.

The feast was a credit to Susan's talents, and she was amply rewarded with the many compliments that were sent her way as the guests tucked in She had outdone herself on the cake front, creating a confection that surpassed even Mrs. Charlie Carson's doomed masterpiece. The kind things said about her efforts turned the faithful maid fairly pink with pleasure.

A few other people arrived from the Glen to help with the celebrating and the feasting was bright and gay. The weather stayed fine enough for people to stand both inside and out, and Ingleside was a whirl of merriment.

As the light started to fade from the afternoon, the bridal carriage, driven by Miss Cornelia's husband, pulled up at the front of the house to collect the newlyweds. All of a sudden, everyone was rushing round; last minute goodbyes were cried and promises of future letters to and from Europe were made. As Gilbert was putting the last trunk on the rack, Leslie drew Anne to one side and put her arms about her friend. Her blue eyes, sapphire-like, sparkled with happiness and her whole, uplifted soul shone out through their brightness. They looked at each other and laughed as they drew each other close. Then Leslie grew serious.

"Anne, _you_ know exactly what I'm thinking and feeling right now, you always have done, and I have told you my innermost thoughts before now too so I won't waste time by telling you again. But I will just say a small thing on this, my happiest of days; before you and Gilbert came to Four Winds I hadn't known what joy there was to be found in the world and without you, and without Gilbert's help, I don't think I might ever have known! Even before Owen came, your friendship had opened up a world for me from which I thought I was ever debarred. You gave me my freedom and a new life, and I will always be in your debt for that!"

"Nonsense!" laughed Anne "I would hate to think that you felt indebted to me or Gilbert, and your dear friendship has paid me in sweetness and loyalty many times over since I came to Four Winds. How glad I am to be kindred spirits with the beautiful goose-girl, the first inhabitant of my new hometown I ever set eyes on!"

Owen helped his lovely bride into the carriage and climbed up beside her, a pride on his face that reminded Mrs. Doctor Dave of the night Gilbert had first brought his red-headed little wife to Four Winds – her nephew had worn the same look. Amidst laughter, hearty throwing of rice by Susan and the young Amelia and well wishes from all, the Fords set off for the station.

Leslie turned at the bend in the road and waved her last, her face so full of love and joy it brought tears to Anne's eyes. Then the buggy turned the corner and they were gone, driving off to a new life of love and adventure. The guests sighed, smiled and turned back to the house. Susan was offering another cup of freshly brewed tea and slices of cake to fortify the party in readiness for their own trips home.

Anne stayed at the gate for a minute, wiping away some soft, quiet tears. Gilbert put his arm about his wife and looked down at her with smiling eyes.

"It was a lovely wedding for them, wasn't it, Anne-girl? If Ford gets half the wife in Leslie as I have found in you, he'll be a contented man. Here's wishing them all the good fortune for as a happy a life as we lead, ey?"

Anne rewarded Gilbert with a light, contented kiss. "What a nice, _husband-y_ thing to say." She said happily. Oh, Leslie was the bride of my dreams." Sighed Anne, tucking her handkerchief away. Wasn't she _beautiful_?"

"She was, she was. No-one could ever dispute Leslie's beauty. But every man thinks he has found the most beautiful angel on earth, in his own wife, as I do with _you_, Anne-o'mine". Gilbert replied lovingly. "A happier life I could not lead, as long as I have you by my side!"

And arm in arm, they walked up the path to their home together, surrounded and encompassed with love.


End file.
